Musings of the Fourth Survivor
by Materioptikon
Summary: Wandering in the ruins of Rock Fort, the Fourth Survivor remembers about his past and the times he has seen Death. Minor DC crossover, oneshot.


First Resident Evil fic. Own nothing, getting no profit. There's mention of a DC Comics character, who I don't own in any shape either.

The guy's the Saint of Killers, the spirit of a slain cowboy damned to serve as the incarnation of Death for those who die in violent acts for killing an innocent in his quest of vengeance.

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* * *

How long had he been like this?

Balance of life and death be damned. This was pure sadism.

Long, long before, the man had had a name.

He also had had a home, a family, a niche in his community.

All of it had burned long ago. So long ago, he couldn't remember any of it. No matter how much he wished to.

It didn't matter any more. After all, when humanity has shifted from the _human_ status to the _meat_ part, it ceases to convey most of its original impact. No more mind, no more feelings, no more rights and no more overt complexities such as those humans choose to revel upon; a total simplicity, in which _hunger_ becomes the key word.

The man was a curious, inquisitive human. A determinist by nature, he could not help but to stare at the people he elected to travel with. It was a need stemming from his own humanity. He liked making deductions about the people he saw. Of course, while it was rewarding to confirm his theories, he rarely had the chance of ever finding out whether he had the right idea or if he was merely pondering over useless data and making unjustified assumptions. Nevertheless, as the man was silent and tended to blend well in the crowd, he was rarely bothered and was free to do as he wished.

And now, all he wished was to traverse the lost paradise that he once called home, seeking remnants of a life that had died decades before.

Behind the red lenses of his gas mask, the man sighed. The pinnacle of the palace where he had gone for so many times in his youth to receive orders was gone, its pieces scattered to the winds by C4 charges. The infirmary where so many broken bones had been mended had been blown up by air to surface rockets. The training camp he had once belonged to was now overrun with the burning undead. The only thing that had not changed was the dark, almost hidden, lintel where he had once taken his first life. The copper plate with the engraved heraldic symbol was still shining, under the soot and the blood.

Moans of pain and hunger were heard at his right.

The man cared not. For a moment, he played with a red grenade, then pulled the pin and thrust it into their ambling path.

He cared even less for their death wails. Taking out his Uzi, he put an end to their miserable existences. When he was sure they would not bother him any more, he approached the lintel. With a quick burst of the gun, he destroyed most of the masonry holding the plate in place. When he was done, a hard yank was enough to rip out the plate.

For a moment, he looked with something resembling nostalgia the golden, gleaming emblem of the eagle and the halberd. Then, he paused for a moment and reached the hole the plate had been covering.

Inside, a single silvery bullet on a chain shone.

* * *

Years before I am writing this, I lived for almost a good decade and a half in Rock Fort Island. I once lived somewhere in Russia, or Eastern Europe. I know for a fact I was all but sold into this life. Not that I care. It suits me. Work comes easy to me, and my reputation in my work is as immaculate as my memories of the island.

Take for instance Vassily Zaitsev. The guy was brought here when he was less than ten. He had already known the type of tough love only a Russian father can impart.

Still, I've been told any place to grow up is better than my own upbringing. I really don't know what to say about it. It was pure Darwinism every single day. I grew up with it and came up on top, so I might say it's possible my view's somewhat skewed. I really never knew much kindness, and the places where I lived back then were not homes or even fit to be treated like one, to use a gross underestimation.

Never mind that, though. Back to Zaitsev. The man, at sixteen, by American standards these days, would be considered a giant. A huge albino giant. And he liked to think he could get some control into the system. Provided, of course, he did the controlling. My unit had him, but we never took pride in that fact. The guy had issues-issues he preferred to discuss with us with some old-fashioned "discussions". As anyone can imagine, sixteen-year-olds really aren't that capable of resisting too much from a two-hundred-and-sixty-pound mountain. He became more violent when the air heated up. And that summer it was the hottest Rock Fort had ever seen.

Vassily was half-insane then. It already took five fully armed guards to subdue him when he went berserk. So, the guards cared very little to come by our barracks even when all but that albino freak were dying. The higher-ups were already pleased by his violent tendencies and handed orders to explore that potential. What they didn't expect, I suppose, was that Vassily might decide he wasn't too pleased about becoming somebody else's plaything. And he already noticed nobody cared if he took out one or two or perhaps everybody else for the race to become a member of the UBCS, but that if he took a swing at a guard, he was going to be roasting in the punishment box for days.

He decided he wanted something more to make us his. So he managed to get a key for the guards' armory. He wanted a big gun, something that made us look how far away from us he was. How close he was to getting the UBCS shield. How close to the palace and the darkness and the cold. How we would remain forever in the mud and the sun and the heat. Like animals. I was lucky back then. I resembled nobody Vassily had ever seen, so I only took a modicum of the punishment he liked to dole out to his "friends". And so I was treated that night to the sight of that albino monster opening the door of the lodge we had been assigned and walk away, waiting for the guard shift to end. He knew the guards would be distracted for a few minutes with the television just installed in the keeper's rooms.

I followed him. Silently. Back then it was my only schtick. Nobody heard me coming until it was too late. So far, I'd limited myself to a crushed Adam's apple, some arms and legs broken and one damaged eye. I saw the idiot positively drooling at the sight of the rows and rows of weapons and ammo before him. He left the doors open. Easy job for me back then to get in without being noticed. He took a Desert Eagle and four clips, shoving them in whatever place in his clothes he could find.

Funny thing, though. He had never fired something that huge, ever.

I just took the Beretta model I'd always liked in live ammo training. And two clips. I wasn't gonna need more, even if I wanted to kill the entire unit.

He smiled like the mad child he always was and left, never noticing I'd already went in and out in way less time he did. I was already worried about the new shift coming up. Didn't matter, though, he left with me in the lead back to the barrack. I managed to get a good fifty yards up ahead. Then I saw someone I knew I really didn't like there in that moment.

The boss.

Sure enough, he was a scrawny little runt even smaller than I. But I knew the clothes. I knew the golden hair and the blue eyes. I damned him and cursed him, knowing full well there was no way I'd manage to hide him from Vassily, and that the freak hadn't a single chance of knowing the kid was the boss. Neither did I have any chance of him believing me. I just prayed some official-looking man came along. I'd already hidden the stuff-knew I wouldn't be caught. But nobody came. I came from behind the kid and slapped my hand over his mouth, trying to see if there was any chance I could drag him into the darkness silently for Vassily to pass by. The kid bit me, hard. Didn't manage to make me release him.

He did make me let his mouth open enough for him to shriek bloody hell to half the island, though.

Vassily picked up the pace, saw us. I knew what he was thinking. And I knew that if the kid died, I was gonna wish Vassily had killed me.

The thing was enraged. Thought we'd bust him. So he started shooting. Granted, his accuracy wasn't that great, but the power of those bullets was enough to scare the hell out of both of us. Then, I heard the alarm sounds and the guard dogs-knew it wasn't going to last much longer. The security gates raised, leaving us three trapped together in a tight hall. Seeing Vassily struggling with the reloading system, I knew he'd kill us both before the guards managed to reach us. He'd totally lost it, knew he was in for the fight of his life, and it was somehow all out fault. So if he was going down, he was going to make sure we did too.

So I took the most fateful choice of my life.

God, it must have been a real show to see a thin rat like me fight Vassily. I really wanted only to see if I could get to his neck and distract him long enough for the guards to arrive, but Vassily managed to finish reloading just as I reached him. I evaded the first bullet, and clung to the back of his shirt for dear life, landing a neat kick in the crotch to prevent him from using those arms he'd choked us with a thousand times before I could reach his neck. Didn't work too well. He grabbed me, and threw me against a wall.

Then, he raised the Eagle, and took aim for the boss.

I ran. I was hoping I could take the boss off his crosshairs long enough...

_Why aren't the guards here yet?_

Vassily fired. I knew the kid was going to get hit. God. I ran and ran and ran. And before I knew it, the bullet had hit me dead on in the middle of the chest.

_I'm gonna die, the boss is gonna die, don't they care at all?_

I really didn't know what the hell was going on as I fell. I just wanted Vassily to know one goddamn thing before I died-he didn't own me.

_I'm my own man and you're nothing, you _thing_._

As I fell, I managed to fire my gun at his head. Dead on, as I knew. Bullet went into one of his eyes and passed through his brain.

I really didn't know what came next. I saw the guards, saw the boss was relatively fine...

Then, I saw the cowboy.

He got out his immense revolver and fired a shot at Vassily, silencing his agony cries. I saw the soul of Vassily screaming as the darkness ate him. Then, the cowboy readied his gun again and targeted me. I realized who the cowboy was. He was Death.

To this date, I don't know how I did what I did. For some time, I though I was someone special. Someone with a special destiny. Now I see I'm just someone who fought hard enough. I raised the Beretta myself.

God forgive me, I shot Death.

Granted, I just hit his revolver as I intended. The cowboy briefly squawked and fired awkwardy. The bullet the cowboy was going to fire at me ended up lodged in the wall.

* * *

I just heard voices while I dreamt. They wondered how the hell I was still alive with a Desert Eagle shot to my chest.

When I awoke, it was at night. The cowboy was staring at me.

I really could do nothing. So I just stayed there and waited for him to end me.

He laughed.

-Boy, ya have no idea of what ya jus' did...

He looked at me. I shivered.

-Nae. Not gonna kill you. Not today.

He turned to leave.

-But, ya still gotta prove that las' shot wasn't luck...

* * *

I later recovered the bullet. The boss, realizing I'd made him a service, promoted me to bodyguard. On his recommendation, I made UBCS relatively quickly.

From then on, I started seeing the cowboy in places rife with death.

I saw him on my first mission to Cambodia. I saw him in my first assassination in London. I saw him on the labs of Umbrella Europe.

I saw him on the labs of William Birkin. I saw him in the upper streets of Raccoon. I saw him in Rock Fort.

He just smiled and tipped his hat.

For the last thing I want to say-they call me Mister Death. I'm not Mister Death. The cowboy is.

And, as I do every year, I'm cleaning my gun, oiling it and prepping it as I always do before a mission. When I'm done, I'm putting it inside my mouth.

Just to see if the cowboy comes.


End file.
